Monster

Deceived

Sorry...

WARNING: angst along with graphic injury description, involves little Hero.

Beor nervously paced in front of his house, from time-to-time glancing at the sun relentlessly rising in the sky and then looking toward the woods. He tried to get some work done, but... He looked again to the woods.

Where was she?

She should have been back by now. She said that Hero would be back by noon! It was already two hours past that. In another hour or so, his uncle and brother would return with his little ones, and he would be forced to make up a false tale.

His uncle would lose all confidence in him again if he told him that he lost the child again. Unless... maybe he could blame it on the Enderman? It wasn't as if the mob could talk and say that he didn't do it...

The memory of the tall being immediately appeared before Beor's sight, where the being carefully stacked cubical blocks of dirt into a small pyramid while Hero, Margol, and Tnul clapped and laughed, all three of them sitting in a small, sunlit meadow in the woods right beyond the village Boundary. At that moment, the tall End creature did not appear dangerous at all and Beor almost smiled, despite his younger brother's gasp of alarm. Rangil had grabbed on to his arm, almost shaking with fear, while Beor himself merely watched the scene with amusement. Somehow, he felt no harm at all in that creature's intent, only curiosity and interest.

It had also never taken Hero away before, except that one time when Beor and Rangil pushed him out in a basket as an offering to the creepers. Now, Beor thought that the strange mob took him away at that time was simply to protect him – unlike the Traveler, the creepers remained dangerous and unpredictable monsters from the Wild despite their interest in Hero.

Guilt rose up in Beor's heart and he immediately abandoned the thought of blaming the innocent mob. Somehow blaming him felt even worse than just claiming that it was his own fault. In a way, it was his fault that Hero was not here. So, he would have to take the blame for it.

Both his uncle and his brother will come to full conclusion that he was hopelessly careless. They already believed this, Beor could see it in their eyes, whenever he promised to take care of everything when it was his turn to take care of the affairs at home. He only tried to do what was right!

Beor let out a discouraged sigh. Lowering his head, he resumed raking the ground with his hoe, preparing the far stretch of the field for the next crop. Wheat already lay in neat stacks next to the side of the barn. Nearby, already well-fed chickens idly pecked at the grain he scattered for them in their pen.

The young villager stopped to take a breath, his body aching from the work he forced himself to do to keep worries from his mind. Stepping over to the shade of the tree on the edge of the field, Beor put out a bucket. Dipping in a wooden plough to scoop up cold water, he brought it to his lips to drink.

Cold feeling of dread suddenly flared from the woods and made the villager freeze. The feeling that overwhelmed him came so intense and full of fear along with a desperate plea for help, spreading around him in waves, that for a moment he made a few unwilling steps toward the forest.

"Hero?..." The villager whispered. Somehow, he was sure that this had something to do with him, even though it was far more powerful than anything he had ever felt before, even when Hero got upset. He could swear that in this voiceless plea for help, calling to him from the woods, he heard the toddler's frightened whimpers.

The feeling dissipated, growing weaker, indistinct, releasing his will. Shakily, the villager lowered his arms and blinked, at a loss of what just happened.